


Brute Force meet Immovable Rock

by LizaGreen



Category: Miraculous Ladybug, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Is Not an Idiot, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Is a Little Shit, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Chat Noir is not a sidekick even if the show treats him as one, Feed Adrien Agreste, He may have just realised that fact, Hurt Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, I was saltier about this than I realised, Identity Reveal, Ladybug gets her priviledge checked, Lila Rossi Bashing, Lila Rossi's Lies Are Exposed, Marinette gets a wake up call, Mentioned Lila Rossi, Miraculous Side Effects, Miraculous salt, Nino Lahiffe Is So Done, Protective Katsuki Yuuri, Protective Nino Lahiffe, Salty Yuri Plisetsky, Victor is here for five minuets to slam a restraining order, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat, Yuri came to take no prisoners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26359339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaGreen/pseuds/LizaGreen
Summary: People don't realise that Emilie's first name isn't Emilie and she had other siblings than her twin before she married Gabriel. Gabriel tries to bury this, except the cousin he tries to bury is now a world famous figure skater.Yuri Plisetsky is ready to throw hands to get his cousin out of a toxic house and surroundings.Marinette realises that she may have been taking her partner for granted.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Yuri Plisetsky, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 9
Kudos: 250





	Brute Force meet Immovable Rock

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: This is not an incredibly serious take on ML but I realised halfway through writing it, that I was saltier about the show than I was aware of so some serious topics wiggled their way in.
> 
> Also, Yuri took no prisoners in being written either.

It was a little-known fact that Emilie Agreste had been born one of three sisters. She and Amelie were twins, but their younger sibling was somehow, incredibly, more rebellious than the two of them. And the only one to stay in the country of which they were born into. 

Amelie had married English aristocracy. Emilie had married an as yet unknown fashion designer, both ridding themselves of their old names. Their sister, Sophia, kept hers right up until she had been killed in a car crash, leaving her small son behind to live with their father. 

Gabriel knew this. He had known the moment he married his wife, had tickled Sophia’s tiny newborn on their wedding day, something that felt so long ago now. Adrien had been born not long after, and his grandfather was always happy to take care of him whenever they would be gone for long periods of time. The only downside was that Adrien grew up with a dreadful accent, not conducive to his burgeoning company. He did his best to stamp it out, to ensure none could hear it. Adrien, always striving to please his Father, did his best, ridding himself early of a childhood lisp and ensuring his accent was perfectly French when returning home with his parents. Emilie didn’t mind and sometimes was secretly glad she had someone else with which to converse in her native tongue with. 

And then she had disappeared. 

It had been two years since then, two long years locked away in a mansion that seemed to grow bigger and emptier the more that time went by. It seemed like so long since he had seen his cousin, other than on a TV screen. Gabriel had been somewhat horrified to discover _that_ fact and banned Adrien from contacting him. Why, Adrien had never been able to parse out. 

Which was why it was a surprise when the front doors were kicked in by a ball of angry energy and expletive Russian. 

“Oi, Alyosha! We’re going out!” Adrien had never run for the stairs so fast in his life. Gabriel still reached there before him. 

“Adrien is busy,” his Father was saying, hands gripped in tight fists behind his back, cutting an imposing figure at the top of the stairs. Yuri stared back at him, unimpressed. 

“Doesn’t look busy to me,” he said, holding up a phone. “And I need a guide.” 

“Look elsewhere. Adrien return to your room,” Gabriel snapped. Adrien bit his lip, unsure. Yuri’s eyes had narrowed. 

“What is he, a dog?” he asked in disgust. “ _Alyosha, what are you doing?_ ” This second half was asked in Russian. Adrien answered in kind. 

“ _Homework, mostly_.” Yuri somehow frowned deeper. 

“ _Then we’re leaving_.” 

“ _But, Yura, I’ve only just started!_ ” Adrien protested as Yuri marched up the stairs, brushing straight past Gabriel as if he were nothing and grabbed his wrist. Yuri raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge there. His Chat Noir instincts perked up immediately. “ _But I can do it later._ ” 

“ _Good_.” Adrien let his cousin drag him past his Father, a feeling of elation settling in his chest. They were almost home free. 

The Gorilla stood in their path. 

“You are not leaving this house,” Gabriel said firmly, anger seething behind the firm tone. Yuri held up his phone threateningly. 

“Yeah, and I bet the internet would love to hear this.” His clicked a button and firm tones played back “ _You are not leaving this house_.” Gabriel bristled. 

“I will not be bullied,” Gabriel started, indignant. Yuri whirled around, green eyes vicious. 

“Oh, I have _much_ more than that, courtesy of your Assistant. Child Services are gonna _love_ some of the recordings I have, telling me I am not worth my own family’s time,” he hissed. “You think I came here without back-up.” A dangerous smirk lifted one corner of his mouth as Gabriel took an involuntary step back. “You’re not the only one here with influence and Vitya is preparing as we speak for a _personal_ interview with a Nadja Chamack. One regarding his couching _me_.” Gabriel was visibly shaking with rage. 

But he also knew that Yuri wasn’t giving him a choice. 

Fresh air had never tasted so much of freedom. 

* * *

Gabriel Agreste has never liked his nephew by marriage. His mother was unsavoury, no one knew who the boy’s father even _was_ , and the woman had gotten herself killed two years after losing custody of the boy. Emilie had tried to convince him to take custody in the middle of that court battle but her father had taken one look at him and Adrien’s perfect suit for the court appeal and whisked the boy away before their lawyer could even approach the desk. 

For a moment, he had thought he would be free of the brat. 

The next he knew, the boy was a social media sensation. Nathalie kept on eye out on him, just in case they decided to start a court case for _Adrien_ , especially after Emilie’s illness, but nothing except copious ice skating and cat posts. The boy was addicted to his Instagram and Twitter accounts and denied every offer from the imbeciles below him for the growing sports sensation to model for their brand in Russia. Which, Gabriel had to admit, he didn’t mind- he just wished that stuck-up prat of a world’s gold medallist, Viktor Nikiforov, would stop turning him down. But the man was married now, had guardianship over one Yuri Plisetsky, and things made much more, irritating, sense. 

When Russia decided it couldn’t cope with an outwardly gay sports star, the pair had moved to France, taking their protégé and his Grandfather with them. The man seemed to be settling into Paris well and kept well away from the Agreste’s. Until that day when Yuri swept into the mansion, dragged out Adrien, and the social media storm began. 

Yuri posted _everything_. He posted about his training, his boyfriend, his playful disgust at his guardians, his cat Potya, time spent with his Grandfather and now, about Adrien. The Internet lost it’s mind to know that perfect model Adrien Agreste and The Ice Tiger of Russia were cousins. Yuri’s Angels started up a sub-section for Adrien and his fans grew. Half of Paris began following ice skating, to watch in awe as the boy twisted himself into almost impossible positions over the ice with ease. Pressure was put on him by his Marketing Department to _please_ book the two of them together, sales would sky-rocket much more than this unknown girl Adrien was currently modelling with. And with Viktor Nikiforov and his husband, Katsuki Yuuri, Gabriel would become one of the world’s biggest fashion brands, bigger than they were even now. The begged him to create more athletic wear, to perhaps sponsor his nephew, to show _some_ interest in the boy. To save them from the less savoury things coming to light about his grip over Adrien that they _couldn’t_ cover up anymore. 

The letter from Child Social Services had him almost literally spitting feathers. All from one post Yuri shared about modelling, diet restrictions and a blatant breach of privacy policy by posting _Adrien’s_ dietary restrictions. Restrictions which, he had to guiltily admit, he had not truly been paying much attention to. Adrien was now sixteen, eating a diet devised for a fourteen year-old home-schooled boy with far less activities than he was currently doing. The drop in weight, which he had congratulated Adrien for, suddenly made far more sense, along with how the boy could eat all of the treats his friends brought in and gain _nothing_. 

So, Gabriel swallowed his pride, and gave in just this once. 

He was surprised the next day when Adrien burst into his office, looking oddly brighter and energetic, to throw his arms around his middle and Gabriel was shocked to find that his son was merely three inches shorter than him now, all corded and sinewy muscle and little else. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Adrien chanted, sounding oddly choked. “ _Thank you!”_ Gabriel didn’t know what he was being thanked for, awkwardly trying to position his arms around a child that was rapidly growing out of being one. _When did he get so tall?_ He wondered vaguely. 

In the background, Yuri leant against the doorframe, phone in hand, glaring at him from behind Adrien’s back. Slowly, he dropped some strawberries on the table Nooroo had taken refuge in when the door opened. He felt a chill run down his spine. 

Adrien continued talking, but Gabriel didn’t really hear. It was something about how grateful he was to get more food, that they could possibly go out and share ice cream, he knew the best place to go, would he let him stay at Marinette’s that night, her parents' were used by now to cooking acceptable dishes for an athlete, they were right for his new diet... Gabriel nodded numbly, not truly processing what his son had just said until the office was quite and empty and dark again. 

“Did... Is anyone else staying with Miss Dupain-Cheng tonight?” he said after a moment of silence. Nathalie shook her head. 

“I believe they have a date planned. Adrien put it in his diary.” Gabriel blinked. 

“Date? But Miss Rossi...?” 

“You dropped her last week, Sir,” Nathalie said, tapping away at her iPad. “The company has no need of her and she made a wonderful akuma.” _That she did,_ Gabriel remembered. And then, _Have I really been that blind?_

The rest of that afternoon was spent in numb silence, contemplating all he had missed over the last two years. 

* * *

Before Yuri had drop-kicked his way into their lives, Nino had never known Adrien had a cousin that wasn’t Felix Graham de Vanily. Or one that could match Adrien’s secret and oft-overlooked mischievous side, complete with shit-eating grin and addition of copious Russian swears. Their first meeting became somewhat legendary- Nino had thought that Adrien had been kidnapped at first, considering he had disappeared for _two days_ , and returned to school in tight ripped jeans, neon green Chat Noir themed shirt and a _cat-eared hoodie_ made of fake leather. Adrien hadn’t even styled his hair and Nino thought Marinette may have just expired on the spot when he waltzed into school in that attire. 

As, it had to be said, did half of Paris. 

Nino had been straight up to Yuri, ready to throw hands if he needed to, the other boy completely unconcerned and more interested in his phone than Nino. And it would have continued that way, Nino growling half-formed threats at him, had Lila not walked past with Alya gushing about the new figure skater in town and how her mother had a very _close_ relationship with him. Viktor something or other. Yuri’s head had shot up, blinked once, twice, before bursting into very loud mocking laughter. Both girls had paused, Nino had frozen and Adrien barely glanced up from trying to revive poor Marinette. 

“I can assure you,” Yuri managed to get out between giggles, “the only _close relationship_ Vitya has is either with his morning mirror or his disgustingly adoring husband.” He sniggered some more, muttered something in Russian, giggled again and shook his head. “Close fucking relationship!” He sniggered, “Ha!” Lila turned a violent shade of red. 

“And what would _you_ know about Viktor Nikiforov?” she spat, suddenly less sweet and friendly than usual. Adrien _did_ glance up at that, looking slightly disbelieving before a spark of realisation went off and the biggest shit-eating grin spread across his face. Dressed as he was, Adrien had a sudden startling resemblance to another blonde who frequented the rooftops of Paris in leather. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Lila. You’d be surprised just how well Yuri is able to break the ice between people,” he said. Nino felt the urge to facepalm at the pun that was surely in there somewhere. 

“No I stab people with knife shoes,” Yuri retorted, still sniggering. “Vitya prances.” 

“But I thought his husband really sent him for a loop?” 

“Yeah, like an axle on a car.” 

“But he does do some wonderful pirouettes.” 

“That’s not even a pun!” Nino shouted, breaking off the weird back and forth between them. “Neither are they even good if you were making them!” 

“I thought that was the point of puns?” Yuri said, leaning back so he could stare at Nino upside down. “That they are always bad?” 

“Says the guy who comes in and insults people,” Nino snapped. “And I swear, whatever else you have planned for Adrien-” 

“Well, I was planning emancipation a la Social Services and Instagram, but I suppose kidnapping works too,” Yuri said off-handedly. “Katsudon’s definitely considered it already.” 

“But I still _get_ Katsudon right?” Adrien asked, suddenly looking worried. “Or katsudon pirozhki?” 

“ _Da_ ,” Yuri said, nodding and ignoring the noises Lila was making. “Except for Vitya’s. We are never letting him near the kitchen again.” Both blondes shuddered. Lila looked ready to explode. 

“What just happened?” Marinette squeaked. Apparently, she had revived enough to hear the tail end of that conversation. 

“We’re planning food, want to join?” Adrien asked, as if his mere presence wasn’t what had caused her temporary loss of soul moments earlier. The smirk was still there. Marinette squeaked. Lila exploded. 

“And exactly _who_ do you think you are?” she half screamed. “I’m telling you, I know Viktor Nikiforov personally and I’m sure some _nobody_ like you wouldn’t know the first thing-” Yuri, face assuming an incredibly bored-yet-put-upon expression, held up his phone pressing dial. It rang once before a very enthusiastic, very Russian voice answered. 

“ _Privet Yura!_ _Ya_ _ne_ _mogu_ _poverit_ _',_ _chto_ _ty_ _pozvonil_ _mne_ _!_ _Ya_ _tak_ _schastliva_ _,_ _moy_ _syn_ _lyubit_ _menya_ _!*”_ The voice was bright, loud, and more dramatic than Chat Noir during love akumas. 

“Shut up, old man,” Yuri growled, pink tinting his cheeks. “I called cos some bitch is trying to claim you as her father again.” There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the phone, Alya’s mouth falling open. Another voice chimed in. 

“Excuse me? This has happened _before_?” 

“Ah, no _vozlyublennyy_ **!” the first voice cried, sounding upset. “You know you are the only one for me! Send me the name, Yura, and I’ll send the cease and desist within the hour.” 

“Don’t need to. Lila Rossi, got anything to say?” Yuri turned the phone out towards Lila and Nino realised with a start, that Yuri hadn’t been calling, but rather video-chatting. And on screen was a man with silver hair avidly hugging a shorter Asian man. Alya was ferociously googling as Lila slowly turned red. Adrien waved beside Marinette. 

_“Privet,_ Vitya!” he called as the silver-haired man squinted at Lila. 

“Ah, _privet_ Alyosha!” the man called. “And no, can’t say I’ve ever met anyone who looked like her or anyone by the surname Rossi. Post those things anywhere my dear however, and I _will_ have my lawyers sent to talk to you.” 

“Why stop there?” Yuri drawled, Adrien nodding. 

“Yeah, she’s claimed to have saved Jagged Stone’s kitten, even though anyone who is anyone knows he never had one!” He was smirking now, a light in his eyes that Nino had never seen before. “And I know that Jagged would have issues writing a song dedicated to a minor because, hello, there are _laws_ about that.” 

“Like the ones about a minor being a fourty-something year old's muse?” Yuri mused out loud. Nino flinched. Now that they mentioned it, there _was_ something fishy about Lila’s stories. And from the expression on Alya’s face of growing disbelief and anger, there was no doubt everything that Yuri and Adrien had just said was true. 

Things that, it had to be said, Marinette had _also_ said in the past. 

Nino decided that day, after the akuma and subsequent pastries at Marinette’s parents’ bakery, that Yuri wasn’t all that bad in the end. 

* * *

Marinette did not like Yuri. She didn’t like his attitude, or the way he just always seemed to be _around_ or even the effect he had on Adrien. Adrien, who had gone from the most perfect boy in the world, to a sarcastic, pun-loving, irritating mess who dressed like a civilian Chat Noir. She hadn’t been aware of his anime loving side, or the fact that he loved macarons and red velvet cake, or his love of all things cat or even that he refused to leave Yuri behind when visiting her and her parents after his grand return from wherever Yuri had dragged him off to for those two conspicuous days. 

Sometimes she wondered if she had ever really known Adrien to begin with. 

Yuri, on the other hand, made no secret of his distaste for her. Alya and he had gotten into a shouting match about his dismissive attitude, stopped only by Adrien dropping in to break it up. Marinette herself had had to stand up against him in her own defence, but the last straw had been his twitter post regarding Ladybug. Alya had burst into her room, screaming about it. 

“For someone who apparently respects their PARTNER, Ladybug sure does hit Chat a lot,” read the post. It went viral. 

The ensuing war would go down in history. 

“What exactly is this asshole implying?” Alya hissed when she had calmed enough to form words. Marinette herself was also fuming. 

“Yeah, it’s not like Chat complains,” she muttered grumpily. “Besides, she doesn’t _hit_ him, anyone can see that!” 

“Well, I mean she’s chastised him a couple times by bonking him on the head,” Alya pointed out, “but that’s hardly abuse!” Marinette blinked. Their phones pinged again, signalling Yuri had made another post, this time to the Ladyblog. 

“Chat Noir is not a fucking sidekick if he has the power of DESTRUCTION on his side, and just because he decides to spend most of his battles making quips and DEFENDING Ladybug’s lazy ass, does not mean he is a sub-standard hero,” read the longer post. “If she actually used her peripheral vision and moved out of the way, Chat wouldn’t be nerfed out of the fight or brainwashed all the time. Point fingers at the so-called LEADER not the SIDEKICK for their abysmal skills.” Marinette couldn’t help it- her mouth fell open. Not only at the post, but the fact that people were _agreeing_ with him. 

Alya let out a half-shriek. 

“How the fuck did that get past my moderators?!” she yelled. “Mari, I _need_ your computer!” 

“Go ahead,” she said somewhat numbly. Some people were arguing back that Chat was impulsive and threw himself into situations, which Yuri acknowledged but still vehemently argued against. It was as if he was on a crusade or something. 

It wasn’t a surprise when there was an akuma later that day. Alya spent most of it glued to Marinette’s computer, not even noticing when she had to leave to be Ladybug, trying to figure out how someone had gotten past all her spam filters. 

She took a moment after the battle to talk to Chat, who was oddly subdued. 

“Chat... about the post on the Ladyblog...” she started. Chat flinched. “You know I don’t see you as a side-kick, right?” Chat pursed his lips. 

“I know,” he said firmly, “but... he also isn’t _wrong_.” She stiffened, incensed. 

“ _What?”_ she hissed. He flinched again. 

“Look, I’m not saying you’re abusive or anything, I think he got the wrong end of the stick about that. It’s just... well, if I did the same to you, gave you a chastising bonk on the head every time I thought you did something wrong or was annoying, even when I was Mister Bug, people would have had my head for it.” She stared, confused and thrown off. “And I know _you_ don’t see me as a side-kick but I’m pretty sure the majority of Paris does. I mean, you make all the plans and stuff, you’re the face of our duo. To most of them I’m either the muscle or the comedic relief who makes a distraction so you can save the day.” She blinked. 

“But... that’s not true. You said you didn’t even _like_ the spotlight!” she cried, feeling as if she were clutching at straws. “Chat, why didn’t you _tell_ me about this?” 

“Because I’m not good at conflict resolution, ok!” he suddenly shouted, the angriest she had seen him ever. “Because I _like_ what I have with you, either as friends or more! Because this is freedom and heaps better than my civilian life, because people actually point out my mistakes as Chat rather than treating me like an object!” He paused for breath, chest heaving and fingers clenched into fists. “And because you never asked.” This was said quietly, so quiet she almost didn’t catch it. 

“Chat...” she started, unsure of what she meant to say. It was clear that he had held that in for a while, that he had been sitting on some dark truth, skirting it for the sake of identities. She had always known, she supposed, at some level, that Chat’s home life must not be all that great and that Chat was a release unlike what Ladybug was for her. But she had never realised how deep that feeling ran. “I’m so sorry you felt that way. But you _are_ my partner, my equal in this fight. You always will be.” He jolted his hand away when she went to take it, letting out a choked noise that sounded caught between bitter laughter and tears. 

“You can say it as much as you like, My Lady,” he said, face shadowed by blonde hair. She was surprised to see a tear drip off of his chin. “But you sure as hell don’t treat me like one. I’ll never be your equal. You’re the Guardian now. Even if we ever fell in love, you’d never remember me like this.” He took a step back, hugging himself tightly, sniffling. “You gave it all up for Paris, as you should, because you're not selfish. _That’s_ why I didn’t tell you.” 

He was gone before she could say anything more. 

Marinette spent much of that night lying in bed, feelings of guilt and horror twisting in her gut as Tikki tried to comfort her. But platitudes such as “You didn’t choose to be the Guardian,” and “You can’t be at fault for what you didn’t know,” fell somewhat flat with the mounting evidence that Yuri was quite happily splashing across social media at her own obliviousness to her partner’s feelings and situation. 

Her phone dinged with an unrecognised number. 

“Some conversation,” the text read. She blinked, wondering who this was and what this was about. 

“Sorry?” she messaged back, confused. “Who is this?” 

“I know he’s bad at conflict resolution, but you could have said something more than a platitude,” came the response. Marinette felt a cold shiver work down her spine. 

“How do you know who I am?” 

“Going to have give up your Miraculous now?” 

“Hawkmoth, I don’t know how you got this number,” she typed with shaking fingers, “but you will not harass me over the phone into giving up my Miraculous and I will report you to the police!” 

The response was a string of laughing emojis. She scowled waiting for more. 

“You think I’m fucking Hawkmoth? What a joke of a hero you are,” came the mocking response. “I think it’s be fucking obvious who this is, we see each other every other day.” She frowned before the realisation sunk in. Chat wasn’t this vocal or vulgar, which left only one candidate left. 

“Yuri?!” She swallowed hard, realising that in originally thinking this was Hawkmoth she couldn’t even deny she was Ladybug. 

“Yeah, I stole your number off Alyosha’s phone,” came the condescending response. 

“How did you know who I am?” 

“You don’t change your voice or hairstyle. Also for a fashion designer, that’s a shit costume. I’ve _worn_ better costumes than that, hell _Vitya_ has. And he’s worn some weird shit.” She blinked, before remembering that Yuri lived with the most decorated figure skater in the world and winced. 

“I was rushed?” she sent back, not sure how she was supposed to respond now. She could almost _feel_ Yuri rolling his eyes at her behind the screen. 

“And you didn’t think to change it?” She scowled.

“I like my costume, shut up.” _Although I do wish it had pockets,_ she thought, despite how defensive she was about her costume. Yuri sent her a cat gif in response. 

And then Adrien’s number popped up on her phone with a text. 

“Hey, Mari, sorry Yuri stole my phone! But he tells me everything is paw-some now?” Marinette squeaked, blushed, and then was distracted by Yuri texting her again. 

“Also, in case you were wondering, Adrien was the mask.” And then he disappeared for the night, leaving her to ponder on not only his cryptic text but also what to answer Adrien with. 

The next morning, she woke to a plethora of Chat Noir gifs from Adrien and the pieces clicked together. The ensuing screaming may have had more to do with her own stupidity than the fact that Adrien was Chat and she had now kissed him _twice_ and blown him off multiple times. 

**Author's Note:**

> *Hello Yura! I can't believe you called me! I am so happy, my son loves me!
> 
> **Beloved, Love (pet name)


End file.
